Bloodlines
by Dorkout
Summary: Tom Branson has just begun his lone journey away from his homeland to become the next chauffer at Downton Abbey. An exciting prospect, but will he ever make it? An encounter with a dark and dangerous creature puts his future on the line. If he survives the night, he has eternity to make something of himself. Vampire!Tom - Downton Abbey meets The Vampire Diaries….sort of!
1. Chapter 1

_A/ N- This is an idea I have had for quite some time. I was encouraged by the lovely Yankeecountess and now that I have taken a break from One Step at a Time, I thought it was the perfect time to explore this. This will be a Vampire!Tom story. It won't be….gruesome per say…but it is about vampires soooo it's around the fringes. This story is M. please be aware of what that means. There will be sexytimes and whatnot…I mean…it's me writing it lol. We need a little exposition first, plot is important! So if you are patient I promise it will be worth it. _

_Now as far as mythology-there is a ton of different legends and ideas and mythologies when it comes to vampire lore. For the sake of least confusion I am going to _basically_ adopt The Vampire Diaries mythology. If you are unfamiliar, I will be dropping hints along the way as to what that means so don't be too stressed if you don't know. If you do then have fun since you know what's up! There's a couple of different ways I want to go with this and I haven't quite decided yet….but the journey will be exciting for sure! I look forward to your feedback, what works? What doesn't? What do you want more of? Let me know! I'm not good about replying on here, but I will take this space usually before every chapter addressing the things I am able to. _

_Disclaimer-basically its Downton Abbey meets Vampire Diaries….neither of which are mine, too bad. Oh well…._

_Enjoy!_

_This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. It was impossible_. Looking into the dusty mirror hung over the small washing sink Tom stared at his reflection. The rush of charged blood through his veins making them stick out purple and black against his cheeks and under his blood red eyes. Gasping at the grotesque picture he presented he noticed something else. Sharp pointed teeth extended out of his previously normal looking canines. Reaching a finger up to gently press against the point of one Tom realized they were razor sharp. _What the fecking hell was going on_?

The last thing he remembered was boarding the boat that was going to take him from his homeland to the land of titles and privilege. Keiran had secured him a position on a large estate as a driver. He had chauffeured back in Dublin for over two years and looked forward to the challenge and opportunity to serve a larger house. He rarely got to take the motor over ten miles an hour at his previous job and was curious and excited about life driving about an earl and his family. Surely, since they were placed so far from town and any bustling city life they would need motor transportation much more than his previous employer. Sure they were English, and he would be serving the aristocracy, and he would be away from his country, his family, everything familiar…but it was an opportunity he would never get back in Ireland. He could really make something of himself. This would be good for him.

Walking back to his cabin on the large boat that was ghosting through the waters Tom couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following him. Picking up speed Tom tried ducking into an empty hallway. A person much taller than Tom and grabbed him expertly from behind. It was a male body, he was sure of it. Male and strong. He had dragged Tom into his room, one hand pressed against his mouth to muffle any screams of protest. Once the door had been shut and locked, somehow seeming impossible given the man's vice grip hold on Tom, the man hand spoken. A smooth and deep English accent discernable. "You are a pretty one. I hardly ever get a pretty one." The man ran his nose along Tom's neck, sniffing and nuzzling.

Tom's hair stood on end, uncomfortable with the prospect of his being forced to do anything with this frightening man. He stiffened in response to the roaming hands and charged air. He had a friend back home who never quite got the hang of chatting up lasses with the rest of their gang. He realized why one night when his friend had spent the night on his couch after too much drinking. They were sitting next to each other talking about politics or something of the sort when Tom felt a hand creeping up the inside of his thigh. He had immediately hopped off of the couch, knocking over his Mam's second best case in his drunken stupor, everything falling into place as he realized just why his friend never seemed to be interested in women. They had spent the night talking, after Tom corrected young Jimmy about his preference and Jimmy talked about how hard it was to read the signs sometimes when you couldn't exactly announce your interest in someone of the same sex. Tom had felt sympathy for the younger man, realizing how hard it must be to live like that all the time.

Tom felt a niggling feeling in the back of his mind, connecting his previous experience to this moment but realized that they were distinctly different. That night Jimmy had been hesitant and shy. The pressure of his hand light, questioning. This man behind him was forceful and scary. His very presence was causing Tom to be averse to him on a primal level. Something in him was screaming _danger_ and Tom wanted to listen. He wanted to flee, but even with all of his strength and effort concentrated on breaking free of the stranger's hold he wouldn't budge. His arms were unyielding and firm, caging him in a way he hadn't felt since he was younger, smaller than most of the other boys he had been an easy target most days, especially with his love of books and learning and ineptitude with physical games.

The hand held over his mouth was cold and as hard as the rest of him. A moment of inspiration had Tom pulling his lips back, exposing his teeth and biting down as hard as he could. His attacker's skin wasn't as indestructible feeling as the rest of him. The chilly flesh broke slightly where Tom pressed his teeth and a rush of surprisingly warm blood flooded Tom's mouth. Chocking back the metallic taste and sputtering for air the assailant removed his injured hand, frozen for a moment in shock at Tom's gall to bite him. He wouldn't be going willingly, whatever this man's plan for the evening. "Well, looks like I've got a fighter. Maybe I'll keep you after all. I _have_ been so lonely these past few months. Maybe it's time I took a…_partner_." The man was inching his uninjured and down Tom's middle, to brush against the top of his trousers.

Thrashing about, trying unsuccessfully to get free Tom spat, able to remove some of the lingering blood from his mouth, wising desperately for a toothbrush and some water, or better yet some whiskey. "F-Fuck you, asshole!"

Tom felt the man jerk surprisingly at being addressed thusly. "Hmm…yes I think you'll do nicely." The eerie stillness and silence of the room reflected back to Tom mockingly for a moment before his world exploded in pain and repulsively, _pleasure_.

Looking back at his reflection, now more normal and less frightening as he worked to control his breathing, Tom could still recall the teeth at his neck, pressing in, violating in its intensity. His previously altered presence was replaced with his usual countenance. He could almost believe he was mistaken in seeing the monster he was sure was reflected back to him minutes before. He looked like his normal self. Perhaps he had been dreaming. Looking down Tom realized that was an optimistic prospect. Blood stained much of the floor surrounding him, his blood he realized. Smeared and almost black in its depth now drying across the walls and floor, bed and dresser, almost every surface was ruined.

A figure lay in his bed, relaxed and unmoving beneath his blankets. _It couldn't be_. Tom felt the emotion surge up in him, anger and rage. He realized he could feel the blood pumping through his veins, he could detect the slight change in his vision, sharper, pulsing. He felt his teeth silently extending in his mouth, uncomfortable and welcome at the same time. He wanted to kill, maim, punish. Anything to get this feeling out of his body. He wanted to hurt, feed and fuck. _Where had that come from_? Tom had never felt particularly violent, or amorous. He could feel himself harden as the blood continued surging through his tense body. Tom had never been with a woman, or man for that matter. He had been close a few times but never wanted to risk a babe with his prospects being less than ideal. A few stolen kisses and some quiet time with his hand had always been enough to keep himself held at bay. But the demanding screaming inside of his was urging him to sate this hunger. All of his hungers, he realized.

The wet smell of his blood clinging to the room was distinguishable from the other scents of old wood, the water outside, a school of fish swimming close by, a women applying perfume three rooms down, breakfast being prepared down the hallway. All of these realizations came close on the heels of the realization that Tom was not himself anymore. He was _Other_. Something different. And the man lying unaffected and serene in his bed was somehow responsible. The figure cracked an eye open. In the light of the morning Tom could now see the features that made this man the perfect predator. He looked perfectly normal. Unassuming. Dark hair, average build, taller than Tom, but he was on the short side anyways. A teasing lightness was lurking behind his hard eyes. Tom realized he was so relaxed because of all of the blood he had taken from Tom last night. The thought disgusted him, and at the same time enticed him, agitated him as well. If only he could find some blood as well…his mouth watered.

Rage and confusion at this person and his own body and mind made Tom yell out. "What the fecking hell did you do to me?" Tom thought he might be sick.

"I _improved_ you. I _made_ you in my image. I am God!" The man proclaimed, throwing his arms wide. Tom wouldn't have been surprised if a bolt of lightning struck the man down where he lay. A more ungodly person Tom couldn't imagine. Naked and draped with a sheet, blood smeared around his mouth and down his chest, staining the sheets around him, a devilish smile dancing across his sharp features. Tom crossed his arms, staring down at the blasphemer in disgust, waiting for a real answer. Somehow Tom wasn't afraid of him like he instinctually was last night. Something in him recognized this man as the same. _They were the same._

"Listen kid, you should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" Tom was getting angrier by the second. The arrogance of him!

"I was going to kill you last night but I changed my mind. Your welcome." The man stood up, the sheet falling to the floor and exposing creamy skin to the brightening light streaming in through the lone window. The man was completely bare save a chunky silver ring decorating the ring finger of his right hand. The sun glinted off of it, dancing its reflection around the room from the single shaft of light.

Looking down again Tom was relieved to find his trousers still firmly in place.

"You can rest easy fair maiden, I only took your life, not your virginity." The bastard spoke from the corner of the room, pulling on his own pants and shirt as if nothing about this situation was odd to him.

Sputtering and trying to catch up, his mind jumbled and focused and clear and muddy all at the same time. "How did you…"

Raising one dark eyebrow the man replied, "I have had your blood, I have had you inside of me. I can still feel you. Your wants, your desires, your secrets. You'll learn, you'll understand. This is the first day of the rest of your life boy-o. You'll thank me someday." He sounded so sure, so confident and Tom wanted to punch his face in.

"C'mon. We'll grab a quick bite and I'll tell you all about it." He approached Tom and placed a long chain necklace over his head. The end reached halfway to his navel and dangled a metallic charm Tom tried inspecting but couldn't place the origin. Not Catholic in design, maybe Celtic? Confused, Tom moved to disengage the surprisingly light adornment from his person, to find his new companion's hands stilling his movements.

"First lesson. Never take this off. And if somehow you fail at that, never go out in the sun without it. I would hate to lose you so soon." He looked genuinely pained at the prospect, almost fatherly and Tom felt a strange kinship with this man, at the same time as wanting to skewer him where he stood. His emotions and thoughts were all over the place and he had little control over their direction it seemed.

Tom was thrown a clean shirt while the other man wiped his face and neck, removing the evidence of last night's activities. Glancing back at the mirror Tom noticed he wore no marks on his neck, a streak of blood indicating there had been a wound at some point but the origin could not be determined by the healed and unmarred flesh. Sharp teeth, heightened senses, wicked thoughts, craving blood and destruction. He didn't have to be a genius to recognize the fictional signs straight out of Bram Stoker. He had read the infamous novel a few weeks ago ironically. Curious about all the fuss and decided it was a bit graphic for his tastes. He never finished it. He would have to retrieve his copy as soon as he got to….

"….Downton! I um….I have to be at Downton Abbey by next week. How will I…what will I….what if I…"he was starting to panic. Sleeping in coffins and avoiding people? Wasn't that what Stoker had detailed? But then how was he able to go out in the daylight….this necklace gave him protection? Tom couldn't recall any such thing in the text he had read.

"Calm down, princess! By next week you'll be a pro. And who knows? Maybe a jaunt in the country is just what I need. I've been in the city too long. It's boring and the people are boring and predictable. Maybe I'll find a nice lordly lad to play with for a while. Hmm…yes. I like it. So who are we then? Counts from across the pond? Wealthy business capitalists?"

"Um…I'm to be the chauffer." Tom replied lamely. The man looked crestfallen, not an exciting prospect to play at apparently being in service.

"Hmm…I could work with that. Perhaps a position for footman will conveniently open upon our arrival? I like to keep a low profile if I can. Blend in to the background if I can't be at the height of society, Ill skirt the underbelly. I didn't catch your name last night by the way, in all of the…excitement." His eyes crinkled in delight at the thought of devouring Tom's soul. Tom felt a bit numb at this point. His brain trying to absorb and process what was happening. The absurdity of it and yet the stark reality of it at the same time. Tom didn't feel anger anymore, or confusion. He almost positive what he was, and who this man was and what had happened to him. He felt a strange reliance on him, possibly due to as he had said, the blood connection. Either way Tom felt as adrift as the boat the resided on, his only direction being provided by the blinding light and energy of this man. His guide on this strange new journey that was depressingly about to become his life.

Resigned, Tom replied. "Tom, Tom Branson." He wasn't sure if a handshake was proper protocol here but he acted on habit, extending his hand formally.

Looking at him in delight and excitement the man stalked over to him. "It must be fate then, Tom, Tom Branson. Two Toms destined to spend eternity together! I'm Thomas, Thomas Barrow. Your new best friend and _life_ partner. Now enough chatter, I'm starved and I smell bacon." Flashing a set of straight white teeth Thomas wrenched the door open, content to leave the gruesome massacre of the room behind him as he gestured Tom to follow, in search of the sizzling bacon Tom could unbelievably hear coming from the opposite side of the boat. His mouth was watering, which seemed odd as he wasn't sure if he could even eat real food…there was so much he needed to learn and his only source of information was swaggering down the hallway in search of breakfast. Hurrying along in his wake, Tom prayed to God that this was all just some strange nightmare he would wake from.

"No such luck!" Thomas called over his shoulder. _Damn_.


	2. Chapter 2

_I am having such a great time with this story! So many ideas and ways to take it! and Thomas and Tom bormance again! I have missed them :) So I hope you guys are enjoying this so far! I don't know how regular the updates will be…mostly whenever I have a day off…generally once a week unless im super awesome and can get 2 at once!_

_I want to thank everyone who reviewed! Also to Yankeecountess for the awesome pic-set, and Angiemagz for the amazing manip of Vampire!Tom_

_Yay for this fandom!_

_Timeline: I'm messing with things a bit….for my own purposes, lol which is allowed cause it's my fic! So I have this happening right around the opening of season 1. Some things are altered….Tom will enter sooner, as you will see. Sybil is 17, almost 18, I am streamlining some things….for reasons. So it won't be a complete following of the series. Some things will be the same-ish, some will be different. Also, I am following TVD mythology, for the most part, some things I will be borrowing from other mythologies but I will be explaining them along the way. _

"I don't like the color." Sighing in annoyance, Tom risked a glance behind him to confirm it was indeed his maker voicing his opinion in that entitled fashion Tom was quickly becoming accustomed to. Straightening imaginary wrinkles out of the dark green livery Tom tried his best to ignore Thomas. "I much prefer you in blue." Tom jolted at Thomas's close proximity, so sudden and unexpected. Thomas was running his hands down Tom's shoulders, while he spoke low against his temple, breath brushing the fine hairs framing his face.

Tom was still getting used to the way Thomas acted. He knew Thomas was attracted to him, he had expressed it enough times, but he never did more than touch innocently enough at times, much like a parent. Straightening his tie when they readied for the day. Brushing his hair back when he feigned sleep, too tired from long days and even longer nights to care much. Rubbing comforting along his back as he tried to control himself the first time he fed. Realizing that first morning that he could continue many of his normal habits Tom had questioned why they even needed to feed off of blood at all.

Thomas had explained over a hearty meal of bacon and eggs before they disembarked, "As long as you keep a steady diet of blood, your body will function as normal. Think of it as…medicine. As long as you take it, you will be fine. Forget to administer the dosage…well, let's just hope you don't forget." Tom had shuddered at that. He could feel it coursing through him, the power, the rage, the ability for utter destruction. It made him sick. He didn't want to be a monster. There had to be a way out.

Thomas, able to read his mind still had answered his unspoken question, "There's no cure boy-o. This is who you are now. You can accept it, or fight against it, but either way the hunger will win. If you want to limit the amount of harm done, I can help you. If you want to deny who and what you are now, you will be placing others in more danger by ignoring the steps you must take."

"Why me?" Tom asked quietly. His entire world had shifted in less than twenty-four hours and he found himself searching for some purpose and meaning. Thomas looked pained for a moment before closing his eyes and sighing.

"This life…it…it's difficult alone. And I have been alone for quite some time now. I didn't plan this, but I just….you reminded me of someone. Someone I miss, and I just acted on instinct. You'll understand. The hunger takes over and you don't really think about consequences. I liked you, not just your blood. You fought back. Your strong, and I just….I needed someone to fight with, to not be alone anymore. Do you understand?" Thomas looked so sincere Tom felt himself feeling for the other man.

His Mam always said he was too sensitive to others, often putting his own needs aside. "Yeah. I think I do. And there's not much I can do about it now anyways, right?"

Thomas smiled a little, "Not that I've been able to find, but if you think of something, be sure to let me know." Tom responded with a grin of his own. Finding themselves at a comfortable understanding Tom decided to let Thomas instruct him in the ways of his new…condition. On the agenda for his first day in England, feeding. Having just recently changed Thomas explained to him that he was a child in many ways. His hunger was wild, uncontrollable, and unpredictable. The best way to deal with it was to anticipate his needs. Keeping satisfied he wouldn't find himself tempted by an innocent passerby. Tom didn't comment that everyone was technically an innocent, Thomas just laughed, reading his thoughts. "There is a right way and a wrong way to do this. You never want to pick someone from a group, someone you know, or someone well connected. Those people will be noticed if things don't go well. You want to leave as little of a trail as possible. Choose someone alone, poor, unlikely to be thought of if they happen to go missing."

"I thought we didn't have to…you know…" Tom asked unsure. Thomas had mentioned that killing wasn't necessary in most cases. There was a trick. Something Thomas promised to teach him. Keeping to the back alleyways near the dock Thomas seemed to be on mission for something in particular. Tom followed closely, his meager bag slung over his shoulder and his throat burning in thirst. They came upon a poor prostitute. Dressed in rags and reeking of human filth, she held a hand out to them as they approached.

"Morning sirs, care to spare a few coins?" Thomas turned to Tom, hands on hips expectantly. Looking around, Tom was assured they were truly alone. There were far enough from the main street that they wouldn't have to worry about anyone coming across them without warning. Impatient, Thomas stepped up and took his bag from his nervous grasp. The woman, disheartened by life and circumstance stared up at him resolution. "If you mean to have me, I'll have the money first and I don't do more than one at a time." She wiped down her front and pushed her mangy hair away from her face. Pretty at least, Tom found himself considering. She might have been a beauty in another life, but somehow had ended up here. "I…um…." Tom didn't know what to do with that.

"Watch me." Thomas reassured him in a steady voice. Placing his bag on the dirty ground, Thomas crouched to the women, placing a steadying hand on the back of her head. Something flickered in her eyes and she stared transfixed into Thomas's eyes. "You're not going to be afraid. You're not going to scream. You're going to let my friend here do anything he wants. And then you're going to forget you ever saw us. Alright darling?" Thomas said in a calm voice, relaxing and easy in its tone. The woman nodded obediently, licking her lips seductively. Thomas smiled at her. "Good girl."

Standing back up Thomas extended an arm out to Tom, inviting him down to the woman's level. Gripping his shoulders he bent to whisper in Tom's ear direction. "Now, you want to avoid tearing. You want to get your teeth in and don't pull, let it flow to you, be patient. That's the key to keeping them alive. Control. Don't let it cloud your mind and you can go unnoticed in most any place." The woman had reached around, grabbing her hair and pulling it out of the way, exposing her neck. Tom could swear he could hear the blood pumping, could see the movement in her pale flesh. He felt his teeth extend and welcomed the feeling of rage and anger building underneath his own skin, needing to destroy. Barely noticing his surroundings anymore Tom lunged at her.

Thomas held him back, "Easy mate, slowly." Placing his hand at the back of Tom's head, one hand wrapped around his waist to prevent him acting too vigorously. Tom couldn't believe himself, he was primal, animalistic. A few moments before he was concerned about this woman's modesty, now he wanted her naked and ripped open, to serve his purpose and forgotten. Breathing through his nose Tom calmed himself, recalling memories of his past. His Mam making Sunday dinner, Keiran wrestling him on the living room carpet, his first kiss behind the bakery. Feeling his blood cool slightly, humanity returning to him, Tom nodded, eyes closed and leaned forward with Thomas's encouraging hand on his back.

He did just as Thomas had said. Biting the tender flesh he found it break easily to his razor sharp teeth. It was like biting into a too ripe tomato, soft and juicy. The blood flowed into his waiting mouth. Swallowing down the sweet nectar, Tom felt his skin tingle. It was like some wonderful drug. His body was singing in appreciation, demanding more. Just as he felt his insides expand with awareness, his blood coursing quickly, his body hardening, he pulled back on a gasp. Resisting the urge to go back for more, Tom let the satisfied feeling linger, like a cold drink on a hot day. Breathing deeply Tom found his body relaxing, returning to an almost normal feeling. He hadn't felt this calm and relaxed since he boarded the boat the night before.

Thomas was radiating pride. Resting against the brick wall and watching Tom wipe his mouth with a handkerchief produced from his pocket. "Well! Look at you! I knew you were special. I knew you would take to it easily. You're an old pro now."

Tom didn't feel happy about that. He didn't want to be good at it. "Look, be thankful you're able to control it. You don't have to worry about accidently killing them this way. No mess!"

"I wanted to though. There was a moment when….I didn't want to stop, I didn't think I could stop. And I just knew that…I had to." Tom explained, happy to have his mind back under his control again after feeling adrift and unsure. If this was the worst of it, he could happily continue his life as if nothing had happened. He just had to manage his condition and everything would go on as it had.

"Except better." Thomas said, reading his thoughts again. "You're at the top now, mate. Everything from here on out is going to be different. Now that you have the hunger down, it's time for the fun stuff."

"Like the mind control thing?" Tom asked, picking up his bag as Thomas spoke.

"That's just the start." Thomas boasted.

_I hope Charlie don't worry where I am. He's such a sweet boy. Such a darling child. He deserves so much more than this. I'm the worst mum there is. No money for clothes, no proper home, a whore for a mum, that's no life for a child._

Tom jerked his head around, her the woman speak. Her mouth remained closed, her eyes unfocused and dazed. She wasn't speaking, Tom was hearing her thoughts. "How can I …." Tom began to ask.

"It lingers, the blood, the thoughts in the blood. When you're still near them, with their blood in you, there's a connection that remains for a brief time. Once we walk away you won't be able to hear her anymore." Thomas assured him.

Rummaging through his bag Tom produced the bag of money he kept hidden in case of emergencies. Portioning out half of its contents he handed the woman the meager offering. It wouldn't change her life but it would provide a few warm meals and some new clothes. Looking at her confused expression he explained awkwardly. "For Charlie." She looked amazed and shocked at his kindness. Uncomfortable with her admiration when he could still see the wound left by his feeding Tom stood, waiting for Thomas to brush the dust from his trousers from sitting against the wall and they made their way out into the busy street again.

Four days later found the partners arriving at Downton Abbey. "I've seen bigger," Thomas quipped on the long walk up the driveway. Tom chuckled, now used to Thomas's sense of humor and arrogance at everything he came into contact with. "I haven't. The last placed I worked was not even a fourth of this estate. Tell me again how I'm supposed to explain you? 'Yes I'm here for the chauffer position, and this is my mate, he'll have a job too by the way!' Doesn't really seem like the best plan eh?" Tom joked, a hint of seriousness hiding behind the laughter.

"I told you boy-o. It's going to be a pinch." Pointing at himself he explained. "Vampire, me. See? Easy! Just get me alone with the God of this estate and I'll be on the payroll by nightfall."

"You mean Lord Grantham?" Tom asked.

"No, the butler. Have you never worked on at a house like this? I used to, a long time ago. And no matter who holds the title, or the land, the butler is the one who actually runs things. Ill scope him out and give him a quick…talking to." Thomas said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Just be careful, yeah?" Tom wanted to keep as low of a profile as possible. They had set down ground rules on the journey there. No feeding on the estate. No bodies left behind. No complicated entanglements, in case something went wrong and they had to leave quickly. Tom was sure he wouldn't have to worry about that, he didn't plan on getting that close to anyone. He wanted to do his job, make enough money to send back to his family to see them settled and figure out the best ways to manage his condition and then set off on his own.

Glad his blood was out of Thomas's system and he could no longer read Tom's thoughts, Tom had decided that as soon as could he would turn to a life of solitude. He had no lingering desire for eternal life, and now that he had it, he wasn't sure what he made of the whole thing. One lifetime was always enough for him, and now he had decades laid out before him, never changing or growing old, he wasn't sure he wanted it. Once his family was looked after he would figure out a way to cure this, or end it. Either way, this job was important to seeing that through. He just had to make sure he had as little blood on his hands as possible. He was uncomfortable with the power he now yielded and yearned for the simpler days when his biggest worry was that he would never find the perfect woman to make his wife. Now he faced a lifetime of celibacy and destruction, he wanted nothing to do with it. He wouldn't lose his control in either way, the prostitute still lingering in his mind. He would have taken her life and used her body savagely. He knew he had that potential and he now put limitations on himself so that the beast within him remained that way, caged and safe. He fed when Thomas did but didn't relish in it, taking just enough to keep him going but pulling back when the monster surfaced.

In the end Thomas had been right and had secured a position as first footman. The staff didn't even put up a snit about it, a younger man had been acting first footman for a few months and they were searching for a second footman position. Thomas had glamoured the entire downstairs staff and now had firmly placed himself hidden enough in plain sight. Thomas was too much in love with the idea of power to play beneath both the butler and another footman. This way he had a minimal amount of power and esteem without the breadth of responsibility of being fully in charge, he said. And after doing a quick round, no one else seemed upset about the quick promotion either.

Tom had been given the chauffer's cottage, a small one bedroom house with a working kitchen area. It was perfect for him. Trying on his uniform, he had felt a calm descend around him. He could do this, it would be easy. If he could just reign Thomas in.

"I can't pick my own color you know." Tom said, trying to make Thomas understand his need for normalcy in this.

"But you can! It's what I've been telling you! It's easy, mate. Just say the words, mean them, and whatever you want…it shall be yours!" Thomas flopped onto Tom's bed, giving up the flirting game he always started, became bored with when Tom didn't respond to it, and moved on to something else.

"I don't want it to be that easy. I want to know I can do this. No tricks. Think of it as….a test. If I can make it here, on my own, and control my…condition, then I can go anywhere and do anything. I just…I need this. Please Thomas." Tom turned, outfitted and ready for his meeting with Lord Crawley…or Lord Grantham? Or was it Mr. Crawley? Damn aristocracy. He would just stick to _Sir_, least room for embarrassment.

"Boring! Fine. I'll play nice. But you owe me. I hear a fancy Duke will be making a visit soon, perhaps he'll provide a little fun to distract me from how utterly bored I'll be watching you be _human_." Thomas spat the word with distaste, making Tom laugh at his antics. As much as Tom hated what he had become, he couldn't find it in himself to blame Thomas for his role in it too much. He understood the need for companionship, for friendship, for that brotherly connection that Tom had missed out on since Keiran had married and moved away years ago, leaving Tom alone and drifting on his own. As unpredictable as Thomas's behavior and attitude, he could feel that Thomas really did care for him and it was hard not to reciprocate.

"Alright, color aside, how do I look?" Tom gestured to his uniform, tight and uncomfortable, but at least it wasn't too big, Tom was crap with a needle and didn't think Thomas harbored any secret seamstressing skills.

"You look perfectly normal. How droll." Thomas joked as Tom grabbed his cap and made his way out to meet with his employer, eager to start this chapter of his life, possibly the last if he wasn't able to locate a cure or way to reverse his condition.

"Thanks. Don't eat any maids while I'm gone. We can pop down to the village on Saturday. A fair or festival is supposed to be in town, plenty of visitors and runaways if we're lucky." Tom winked at the sprawled figure, gazing up at him in excitement. "If you're good." Tom amended.

"You're no fun." Thomas pouted. Tom laughed on his way back up to the house. It was such a massive property Tom wondered at one man, his wife, and three daughters keeping residence with all this space. Tom figured every family member he had ever met could all live comfortable, each with their own room and there would still be space left over. Entering through the back servant's door, Tom caught the sight of a breathtaking figure, skirts swishing quickly as she ducked around the back of the house to enter towards the front. She was a few hundred feet away, come in from walk around the grounds perhaps but with Tom's enhanced senses he was able to hear the rustle of fabric as her shoes crunched the gravel, her hair bouncing along her shoulders as her gait slowed, almost as if she didn't enjoy the prospect of being close to home again. Already missing the freedom of the outdoors while being faced with a day spent indoors.

She looked to be about seventeen, just barely a woman, but the firm set of her shoulders told him just how sure of herself she was. This was someone confident in herself and her place in the world, none of the lingering insecurity that comes with being young and unsure of the world. Tom envied her. To be so sure of where you fit and your purpose. Tom always felt he was meant for more, could do more, but now he just wished he could go back to being no one, to being nothing but ordinary. Not that she was happy about much. The sigh carried to Tom's expert hearing on the breeze told him there was something bothering her. Something big, something that she knew couldn't be fixed but wished it otherwise. He could relate. Poor thing, Tom thought. It was hard when you had no options but to soldier on. Following this stranger's lead, he squared his shoulders, entering the imposing house and doing his best to not dwell on options he currently didn't have. This is what he had. And he would strive to do his best.


	3. Chapter 3

_So…some back story….i found this chapter exciting to write so I hope you find it exciting to read. I know everyone is waiting for the Tom/Sybil meeting…but there is a story needing to be told before that can happen. I hope you won't hate it too much, because I am kind of dorking out on myself right now lol_

Things were going well. Tom enjoyed his job. Driving maybe once or twice a day and fiddling with the mechanics of the car for the rest of the day. With his new speed and strength he could dismantle and reassemble the entire motor in a few hours. It had amused him greatly the first few days, delighting in the physical act. He soon grew bored with the exercise, having discovered all her could about the engine, the frame, even the stitching on the seats. He instead used his free time to catch up on reading. Being able to read quickly, attentively and intensely he devoured as many books as he could get his hands on. Thankful to Lord Grantham for allowing him use of his personal library, Tom was able to gather as much knowledge as he could about his condition and its mark left on the histories of the world. So far he couldn't find anything of use about a cure, if one were even possible. But if he were possible then surely nature would have to make a counter. There couldn't be one without the other, problem and solution, it had to exist somewhere.

Picking up where he left off in seventeen hundreds Scottish history, Tom engrossed himself in the political issues of the time, searching for some sign of his kind. Tom didn't hear him, but could sense him as he appeared silently behind Tom's chair, relaxing in the garage for a moment before he was due to chauffer the ladies of Downton to the dressmaker's for the day. Thomas's breath was labored, harsh and panicked. Whipping around quickly, using his speed to pull Thomas further into the shadows of the building, away from any eyes that may pass by and witness a heated moment between the chauffer and the footman, Tom didn't need any questions being asked, especially if Thomas had done something terrible, which Tom felt on eggshells daily wondering who and when it would be. Thomas was old, older than Tom could guess, though he placed him somewhere in the last few hundred years, which came with a certain level of control, but Tom didn't know how far that control extended. Some days he felt as if Thomas were a ticking bomb, just waiting to go off at the slightest provocation.

Gripping his shoulders as he slammed his body against the wall of tools as Tom stared into Thomas's shocked blank look. "What? What's happened?"

Thomas floundered for a second, torn between disbelief and confusion and something like hope. "I…She…It can't be. Lizzie is…it can't be. But…it is!" Tom looked at him, frustrated at his lack of understanding.

"Lizzie? Who are you talking about? Thomas! Look at me, mate!" Tom grabbed Thomas's chin, forcing him to look Tom in the eye. "Say what you mean. I don't understand."

Thomas came back into himself, roughly pushing Tom off of him as he clutched at the back of his head, scrubbing his hands angrily through his hair as he sat down on one of the many benches lining the garage. "It's her. It's fucking her. I don't know how or why but…Christ, I need a drink." Tom quickly procured the hidden bottle of whiskey he kept underneath the front seat of the motor. Keeping spirits in a Vampire's system could quench the thirst for a time, keep their body temperature up and could almost make one forget what they had become, if only for a moment.

Not bothering to pour out into glasses Tom handed the entire bottle to Thomas who looked at it in disgust. "I meant a real drink, for fuck's sake." Nevertheless he took a long pull of the dark liquid before leaning back, grief painted all over his face. Tom was worried. He had never seen Thomas this disheveled before. Pulling up another bench, Tom straddled it, waiting for Thomas to elaborate on what was happening. He felt compelled to be calm and reassuring for Thomas's sake. He had explained to Tom the other day that when a human is changed into a Vampire, their personalities are heightened.

Tom lived his life as a moral and understanding soul, putting others above himself and seeking out ways to be helpful and generous in any way that he could. As a Vampire those aspects were amplified, which is why it was easy for him to stop feeding when he was satisfied. He felt guilt for the harm he did others more so than other Vampires. He always paid the people he drank from, either in money, or food, or clothing. Something to assuage the guilt he felt at their suffering. It didn't matter if he could use his compulsion and keep them from ever remembering it, he would remember and that was what mattered. He understood now the reason he had forgiven Thomas so easily, how could he not? He felt for the man, his loneliness, his despair, and endeavored to help in any way he could. Now seeing him broken and weary, he worried for his friend, unable to fix whatever had him in this state.

After a long minute of silence Thomas finally spoke, "I had a sister, did I ever tell you? Elizabeth, Lizzie I called her. She was two years younger than me and a hellion. Always following me around, demanding attention, fighting with all the boys, stealing my sweets and taking all of my toys. But I loved her, I protected her from everything, even giving my life to do so, or so I thought. She was a great beauty, Lizzie, had all the boys in the village chasing after her. I kept them at a distance though, no one dared make an advance at my Lizzie before she became of age, until _they_ came. They arrived in the dead of night, seeing refuge and repast. We didn't deny them, couldn't for some reason. I know now, it was compulsion, they tricked the whole village. They took one look at Lizzie and something changed. It was all a blur, they ordered us all immobile and took her. I screamed, inside of my head, in my body, but it did no good, I couldn't move. I searched for her, for days, for months. My father called me crazed, he had given up hope along with my mother. The mind control had convinced them she left with a suitor from a neighboring village but I knew that wasn't right, something in the back of mind, not letting me forget the men who came in the dead of night, and stole my heart.

I found them nine months later. They were holding her in a shack in the middle of nowhere, miles from any civilization. I only chanced upon them by accident, chased by a wolf into unfamiliar landscape. I sought safety in the tiny structure, to be met face to face with the sister I thought gone. She was, different. Brainwashed and heavily pregnant. My sister who I had protected and sheltered from the evil doings of men was now captive and breeding. I couldn't believe it. My parent's surety that she had eloped suddenly came back to me, not so unbelievable with the evidence in front of me. I raved at her, 'Where is he? Where is the bastard who did this to you?' I asked. She looked at me confused. 'I don't know. He said he would be back for supper, but that was some months ago….I'm to wait here for him. As soon as the baby comes, I can leave. I'll be free then.' She looked…touched. Something about her wasn't right. I had to get her home as soon as possible. But then the pains came on. And then _they_ came. They were just as my foggy mind remembered them, one dark haired, and the other light. Both handsome and dangerous in appearance and manner. The lighter one was the clear leader. 'Looks as though were right on time, brother. I told you I had a gift for these things.' 'And so you did' the darker one answered. I grabbed my knife, intent on skewering them where they stood. But something stopped me. My mind. I wanted to kill them, but my body wasn't responding. I could do nothing but hold Lizzie's hand as the babe came. It was violent, it tore her apart.

It screamed and rioted, life clearly surging through its tiny hands waving around in blind abandon. My sister lay bleeding, the life fading out of her. 'Tommy…I'm so tired.' She whimpered to me. The men stood staring at her, the babe held in the darker one's arms. Wrapped in a blanket of gold and blue, he gentled the child with soft words in a language I had never heard before. The lighter one looked angry, he looked at my sister as if she had done something wrong. 'Help her!' I yelled at him, standing still, making no move to do anything as the blood dripped to the floor. He turned his glare to me and said in a low voice, 'She isn't worth it. Her blood is weak.' I didn't know what he meant but I knew they could save her if they wished. The darker one looked pained, like he wanted to help, like he was suffering as much as I was. I sobbed at her hand, watching her weaken and die before my eyes. I pleaded and begged, bargained with them, 'Take me! Save her and Take me instead!' I don't know if spoke to God or to them but both ignored me. She died there, cold and pale and alone save me. The men left, taking the baby with them. I didn't much care about it. They had put it inside of her for some purpose, and her purpose being served, thrown her aside with no care. I resigned myself with having to bury her body, no horse or means to take her back to our village. I searched the structure and came up with a small shovel. I cleaned her body as best I could. Taking care to remove as much of the blood as I could, tears clouding my vision and set out to dig the hole I would set her to rest in.

Afterwards I had curled up on the grass beside her covered grave and wept. He came to me then. The darker one. He looked at me and sighed. 'I would offer you my sincerest regrets.' I was enraged, I struck at him with shovel. He deflected me easily. Something must have changed him mind though, one moment he was stood over me with the shovel, poise to remove my head, the next he was bending down, speaking low. I didn't catch what he said, but afterwards I recalled, 'I can take it away for you.' He dripped something into my gasping mouth and snapped my neck. I woke the next morning, just as you did. Changed and confused, but utterly alone. I had to manage on my own, discovering everything about this life on my own. He was right though, I can shut it off. The grief, the pain. You can flip a switch and it all goes away. I lived like that for a time. No humanity. No suffering. But it was…lonely. I came back to myself shortly before I encountered you. I needed…something. A tether I guess, to keep my humanity with me, it was too easy and too destructive to live without it. You have given me that Tom. I said you reminded me of someone. Lizzie. You reminded me of her. You fought, and she always fought. She fought me and she fought them. I knew she did. They had to force her to be so complacent, I knew it, because she must have fought them so hard. I found her a shell because they couldn't handle her as she was. They took the fight from her, and that's what killed her. The babe did its job well enough, but she would have fought if they hadn't taken her will away. She would have stayed with me, she never would have left me, just as I never would have left her." He finished his story. Staring at the oily and dirty floor. Tom didn't know what to say, how to respond. So he didn't. He just sat, waiting.

Sighing heavily, the toll the storytelling and the drink had taken clear on his tired face, Thomas raised his eyes, looking at Tom, a new intensity present. "I lost her Tom, and I have missed her every day since. And then today…I saw her Tom. She passed right by me, didn't look twice. It's her though, I know it is!"

Tom moved to sit next to Thomas on his bench, grabbing his hand in reassurance. "Thomas, you said she died. You said you buried her. How can it be her?" he tried to speak calmly but felt shaken by the story and what Thomas was saying now. It didn't make sense.

"How do you explain it then? I swear it's her!" he was becoming agitated with Tom's denial.

"Who is this person you saw, the one who you think is Lizzie, is she a maid?" they had only been in the house a few days, Tom hadn't met all of the staff and had only seen the Earl and his mother so far so he didn't have a frame of reference for all of the people Thomas probably came into contact with daily.

"The daughter. The youngest one. Lady Sybil. Except it's not. It's Lizzie! But…she didn't recognize me…how could she not recognize me?" Thomas looked to be on the verge of tears and Tom could do nothing but pat his back gently as he tried to think of a possible explanation.

"Maybe…maybe she just looks like Lizzie? I mean…it has been a while since you've seen her. How can you be sure?" Tom asked logically.

Thomas seemed to calm down a bit. "Maybe your right….it isn't possible, right? Maybe I just…lost myself for a moment. I just…"

Tom understood. He knew how much Thomas craved love and acceptance. Tom did all he could to help his friend, but there was something about that deep bond that can occur between siblings or lovers. A soul-like understanding. His mother and father had it. Tom always thought he would find it with someone, someday. Now he was resigned to a life without the possibility of that love, he understood what it was to feel alone and hopeless.

"Look, I'm about to take all the ladies into town for some shopping, shall I investigate a bit, see if I can pick up on anything out of place? If she is Lizzie than there would be something off with the sisters and mother right? Let me see what I can find out. Just hang out here and try not to cause too much trouble while I'm gone, yeah?" Tom grabbed his second bottle of hidden whiskey, placating a rattled Thomas as he readied the motor for the journey.

Starting in on the second bottle, Thomas called out to Tom as he jumped into the driver's side. "You're a good friend Tom Branson." Tipping his cap in his now drunk friend's direction Tom set out to find out all he could about Miss Lady Sybil and her parentage. If she somehow was Lizzie…then she would have had to glamour the entire house, family, and society into believing who she was. There would be no history on her save what she created with her mind control. Because if Lizzie had survived, it would not have been as human, that much Tom had gathered from Thomas's story. This Lady Sybil, if human, could not be Thomas's sister from a few hundred years ago. She was either a very good actress, or just a girl who happened to look like a woman from two hundred years ago. Tom was determined to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello! I hope you are all finding this story interesting and exciting! Cause I sure am! Ive been on a vampire diaries binge the past few days and I have some amazing things planned for this story!_

_I just rewatched season 1x04 of Downton Abbey and I think if you watch it with this story in mind, you can see all the little things ive connected. Tom, Thomas, Sybil. I added a couple things I hope you can catch. There are a few more moments from that episode I have planned for the next few chapters so it may be a good idea to have a rewatch, or don't, whatever :) I hope you enjoy this! Much more to come soon I hope, maybe a chapter from sybil's perspective?_

The fair was up and running by the time Tom had made it to the cross street, waiting for the ladies to finish their perusal of all the common goods before embarking on a day of frivolous shopping. Scoping out the stalls and wares as he stood leaning against the motor, Tom thought it the perfect thing that Thomas needed. By nightfall the place would be swarming with townsfolk. The perfect environment for a quick bite or two. People would be distracted, there would be noise enough to cover any sounds of scuffle or screaming, and the chill air would make scarves and hats necessary for an evening spent playing games and sipping warm cider.

Breaking out of his musings Tom spotted the three Crawley ladies approaching the waiting motor. He hadn't seen them before but they must have recognized the car, not him, since they walked up so confidently that he was indeed their ride. The older sister seemed pretty put out by something and Tom sharpened his hearing to catch Lady Grantham's reply.

"Because, it's Sybil's turn." The mother spoke with authority and surety. She seemed nice enough but quite condescending in the way she spoke to both daughters. Tom was now focused on the younger lady. Dark hair swept beneath a dark blue hat with a matching coat. She had asked her mother something, something Tom didn't quite catch as he was so focused on looking for any sign of compulsion or vampirism hanging about the trio.

"Of course you can, Darling. As long as you choose what I choose." Lady Sybil's face had broken into an earth shattering smile at the first reply and fell just as quickly with the last. Tom glimpsed the same broken shell of a person he had seen walking past the servant's entrance before. Something was not at all right with this girl and Tom found himself intrigued and anxious to learn more, aside from the other effects he was having at her presence.

Tom had to focus as Lady Grantham was now addressing him as she boarded the motor. He was asked to take Lady Sybil into Ripon on her own the next day and a thrill of anticipation curled up the base of his spine. Something about Lady Sybil had caught his attention, as well as the monster that lay hidden. He felt his teeth begin to extend and the blood pump through his veins, throat dry and aching for her.

Tom found it difficult to avert his eyes as Lady Sybil walked past him, he didn't want her to see the effect she was having on him. The warm rush of air that reached him as she passed him holding open the door for her confirmed his earlier suspicions. She was not _other_. She was human. Perfectly normal. Not the hundred year old resurrected sister of his maker. Just a regular human girl on the cusp of womanhood with something she was covering up. Thomas was much distracted when he first set eyes on the youngest Crawley girl and wasn't able to catch any signs that marked her one way or the other. He said he didn't think he could control himself and had to escape as quickly as possible.

Her mood seemed to lighten at the sisterly banter Tom caught making preparations to start the motor. She had an attitude not quite fitting for a lady. She was opinionated and vocal about her beliefs. She was a rare creature, Tom thought. Rarer than even himself. She put her whole heart into everything she said. Whether it was discussing dressmaking, woman's place in society, or her grandmother, the amount of sass coming from this girl was shocking and arousing.

Tom had to work to quiet his blood. Lately he had discovered that when his mind wandered, his animalistic side would overtake in the lull. He would be thinking of something one moment and find himself struggling for dominance of his body and mind. He almost attacked a kitchen maid the day before. He had been listening to something Thomas was saying about the annoying second footman and a possible ploy to inject some entertainment in the calmness that had enveloped the house since the controversy of a Turkish diplomat being found dead in his room. Thomas had feigned ignorance of the circumstances that landed the poor man stiff and cold his bed. Tom hoped he hadn't had anything to do with it but he knew how useless hope was these days. If Thomas felt like Tom did some days, then he couldn't be blamed for a lapse in control now and then.

Thomas had pulled Tom off of the poor girl, shuddering as she stared between the two men who had her blocked into the storage shed. Tom hadn't even had a moment to call himself off. He had been thinking about the diplomat, Thomas's new plan to exact revenge on the mouthy footman and had just acted. Thomas had quickly compelled the girl to forget everything that happened and go back into the kitchens as he dragged Tom out to the garage. They had a deal, keep each other in line. When one would stray the other would bring him back, whatever it took. Yesterday it had been Tom, today it was Thomas's turn. He hoped Thomas wasn't making too much of a nuisance of himself while Tom was away.

He had good news to tell him. Lady Sybil was not his long dead sister. She couldn't be. Her blood pumped in her veins strongly and wetly, the act making his mouth water. He wouldn't get that kind of reaction from another vampire. Desire, yes. But hunger? No. Although, knowing she was human didn't make her any less interesting. The short glimpse of pain and suffering he had glimpsed before and her air of something hidden had pulled at Tom's mind, eager to untangle the mystery. She was sweet, the younger sister. She was coming into her own and finding her voice. There was something there though, under the surface, some pain that he couldn't determine the source of. She had moments sitting in the car where she was completely silent, and looked like the weight of the world graced her delicate shoulders. Other moments she would say something bold and important that her sister and mother would brush off. He could shake the feeling that she was important. This girl, this woman, was vastly important. Her words, her life. It would mean something great.

He wanted to know what it was that drew him to her like this. It was overwhelming, trying to not look at her through his mirror as he drove them all home. He had to consciously scold himself every minute. He kept noticing new things that only fuelled this strange new obsession. He wondered if Thomas hadn't pointed it out to him would he have fixated on her as he did? He thought he still might. The story of her was too good for him to pass up. He loved a good mystery and it helped to distract him from the pain of his own existence. If he could help solve hers, maybe he wouldn't have to think about his own. Morbid as that thought was, he knew it was true. His mind craved a distraction and Lady Sybil was a great one. An opinionated young lady, fighting for women's rights? He knew just how to get her to open up, to give him more clues about why, and how and what it was that had her looking so far off most of the time.

He would take her into Ripon tomorrow, and talk to her. He would make her feel comfortable, and coax it out of her. If that didn't work he could always compel her to tell him. He could even feed a bit if he thought he could control himself. Maybe if he gorged enough at the fair tonight, he would be able to compel her on his own. He had tried but didn't have quite the flair Thomas did but for some reason he wanted to keep Thomas out of this little project. He knew that the resemblance between his dead sister and Sybil must have been striking but Tom didn't want him getting too close. There was something off about Thomas at times, when he was angered he didn't really have a pull back like Tom did. He acted and thought later whereas Tom thought through it all and was able to stop himself from going too far when in that state of mind.

Now that the mystery of Elizabeth Barrow was put to rest, Tom could delve into the mystery of Sybil Crawley. Why was she so sad? What was she hiding? _What did she taste like_? Shaking himself off that thought Tom concentrated on the road and on keeping his eyes off the dark beauty gazing disappointedly out the window at the passing landscape, sighing heavily at some thought that Tom was determined to discover. He would prepare himself tonight and start tomorrow, this his mind could wrap around and get to the bottom of. His frustrating search for a cure or a way out of his condition put to rest for the time being. This was something Tom felt his mind and body surge towards and he was unable to avoid the path he was now set on. _Sybil Crawley_.


	5. Chapter 5

_It has been….quite a while! I am so sorry for seeming to abandon my writing….i don't want to sound like I'm making excuses but work and life really has been so insane! I got prompted again, (the 2__nd__ time in 3 months) and I have had a ton of stuff to learn and go over and have had no energy beyond pressing play on my tv. I apologize for the delay in this chapter and that it is not as juicy as I had hoped. The next should be better and out more quickly I hope! I just had to make sure I got something in for the Tumblr Rock the Paranormal AU! This one is a bit shorter than you guys are used to but I think its still satisfying in content. _

She felt it again. That strange creeping from the base of her spine. That feeling that someone or something was watching her. She looked around, knowing she would see no one, but unable to stop herself from checking. The past three months had been wearing on her. She didn't know what was wrong with her but she knew there was much of the summer that she couldn't remember.

Sybil had spent the summer in London with her family attending balls and having tea with the rest of the society ladies. She could recite to anyone who asked what her days consisted of and had no reason to doubt that anything was missing. But she knew something was. Days she couldn't recall. People she couldn't remember. A man….or two. The familiar blurring and buzzing began whenever she caught the scent of some memory unable to breach the surface of her mind into consciousness.

Tugging the pins from her hair Sybil was glad Anna had seen to her first. Her gown was uncomfortably tight from the moment she put it on and was glad to be out of it, seeing to her own hair to have a moment alone. Asking Anna to loosen the lacing in front of her sisters was a mistake. She was _not_ gaining weight. Except that she was.

She took long walks every day. She watched what she ate. She had no reason to be gaining weight. Her mother and sisters were all thin, why was it that Sybil was still filling everything out? She was curvy and soft, and it was making her feel strange. She was old enough to be done with growth spurts and each time she had to loosen her gown _before_ dinner made Sybil question everything all over again. Perhaps she would look into something different for her new garment tomorrow. Something less constrained.

Finishing up with her nighty ritual Sybil crawled into bed, waiting for sleep to come. The creeping feeling began again as she closed her eyes. Flashes of events and people she had never seen passed through her mind. Something was terribly wrong and she couldn't quite figure it out. There was something big missing from her time in London but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't define it. She felt changed. Different. Other.

"Three farmer's daughters, two stable lads and one surprisingly tasty priest. I dare say, I think I'm filled to the brim." Thomas was licking his lips as they made their way through the fair folks towards the path back to the house.

"I would hope so." Tom chuckled. He felt just as full himself. They had selected their prey with calculated precision. Thomas using his compulsion to lure them behind a stall where they would each take just enough before sending them on their way, with no memory and no worse for the wear.

Thomas slung an arm over his shoulder, pulling him in as they walked up the darkened path to Downton. "Thank you again, mate. You are the best friend I have ever had the pleasure of forcing into my company." Thomas laughed as he patted Tom's back and pushed him away good naturedly.

They lapsed back into silence. Tom's mind racing forward to tomorrow. He would be alone with Lady Sybil for hours. He felt sated enough, but the thought of her breathing heavily behind him, heart beating in fear as he lunged back, sinking his teeth into her soft-

"Why do you think she looks so much like Lizzie?" Thomas's voice was quiet as a whisper but Tom still heard it, jarring him from his depraved fantasy.

"No idea. Maybe a distant relative?" Tom couldn't answer with any degree of surety.

"I would believe that if she didn't look _exactly_ like her. There's more than just a distant relation at play here. I would swear they could be twins, but I know they aren't." Tom shrugged at his friend. No answer for him.

He truly had no idea why Lady Sybil was a walking replica of Thomas's sister. He wondered for the sake of his friend and maker, but beyond that his hunger for knowledge warred with his desire and hunger for the youngest Crawley. If he had never been changed, he was sure he would still hunger for her. She was intriguing. She didn't belong, or at least didn't feel as if she did. She had ideas, and opinions more suited for a hard working lass, not befitting a lady, but that made her even more appealing. He wanted to open her up and read her like one of his books.

He wanted to know her, but knew it was too dangerous. Too dangerous for her because of the obvious reasons, but he was concerned about his own self as well. He already felt a desire for her, and he had never felt a pull this strongly from anyone. Even the prostitute who offered her body as well as her blood, body exposed, didn't garner a fraction of the affection he felt well up inside when he thought about her. He worried he wouldn't be able to control himself around her. And he worried he would do something he would regret.

There were only two options he saw. Either the monster would overtake him and he would end her, or he would be able to control his inner demon but loose his head to her. She already took up a large part of his day with the little quirks of her mouth, the emotions dancing across her face as she spoke, everything that made her unique taking up residence in his mind, unable to push away. It was worrisome for a first time interaction to be so permanent and having very little to do with hunger. He felt the same pull to her blood as he did with most people, but there was a different string attached when he thought of her. Yes, he did want to sink his teeth into her pale flesh, but he didn't want her blood. He wanted to possess her. He wanted her more intensely than he had ever wanted anything. The thought scared him. He had never felt attraction so quickly. Never this intensely. If he had he wouldn't be a virgin still.

He was…waiting he supposed. Or he was, before he was changed. Thomas had asked him why he didn't just get it over with now that he was damned anyways. He didn't know. He supposed he was still waiting. For who? He didn't know. He only knew that none of the people they encountered had drawn him in like Lady Sybil did. Perhaps if he got to know her better he would be able to work through some of his attraction. There had to be something unappealing about her. Something he could latch onto. On the drive into Ripon he would attempt a conversation with the young lady. Maybe she was just as snobbish as her sister. She would ignore or rebuke him and he would see she was just as awful as the other two had been to him. Not intentionally rude, but just above him. He could never justify his attraction to someone like that. With a firm plan in place on how best to approach her Tom made his way to his cottage for the night, leaving Thomas to his antics involving a certain unfortunate second footman.


End file.
